The occupation of 35, Summerhill Parade


During lunch break today I sat at my desk browsing the internet (my brow furrowed while doing so, in case anyone passing thought I was slacking). I read a heart-breaking story about a mother and her six children seeking refuge in Tallaght Garda Station for the night, because there were no available emergency beds through homeless services. As there are currently 10,000 people in Ireland officially homeless (including 4000 children), the housing crisis has escalated to emergency levels. Continue reading The occupation of 35, Summerhill Parade


Brighton in Summer


Brighton is a town that I love. Since my first visit in 2010, I have travelled there on an almost annual basis. The seaside atmosphere, the faded grandeur, the alternative vibe, the vegan shoe shops, the markets, the Pier with its haunted hotel. And the gays. I’d heard tales of the preponderance of homosexuals in the town. Continue reading Brighton in Summer

The return of ‘Mother’s Little Treasure’


In February 2017, Firedoor Theatre held one of their successful ‘Uncut’ evenings at the Pearse Centre in Dublin. This is a regular showcase event where writers, actors, directors are given a platform to try out material. If you have written a piece then you can stage it. A particular monologue you’ve always wanted to try out in front of an audience – well here is your opportunity. Continue reading The return of ‘Mother’s Little Treasure’

Knockanstockan 2018: ‘The revolution shall wear a uniform’



With my wounded finger, I was uncertain whether I would be in attendance or not. Having checked the website for bus transportation on the Friday, it appeared like all travel tickets were sold out. Seemingly the decision had been made for me. I would spend the Sunday recuperating, before my triumphant return to the Wastelands the following day. A quick Google search on Saturday night showed that bus tickets directly to the destination were on sale again. Departure at 11am in the morning. Like a hot snot, I was all over that ticket. Ladies and gentlemen (and others), I was on my way to Knockanstockan 2018. Continue reading Knockanstockan 2018: ‘The revolution shall wear a uniform’

Me against the Maltese window

malta window


The picture above is of a window box that is in widespread use across Malta. It is attached to the stone buildings. It allows people to sit, and observe the world go by. They are very pretty and popular across the island. There tends to be five or six windows in these window frames in total. One at each side; and three or four at the front. All can be opened. Continue reading Me against the Maltese window

Gozo – and beyond!


(Read about part 1 of the holiday HERE.)

I had commented to my friend how civilised Malta seemed for a holiday island. How respectable. How safe. How thoroughly elegant, despite the throngs of people everywhere you turned. On Thursday night I had a little rethink. We decided to take a promenade along the seafront as the Victorians preferred. As we are now more seasoned individuals it seemed like a classy thing to do. I was struck again by how built up it all seemed. Then again with so many people living in such a small space, what else can you expect? We dined in an Italian restaurant, run by a Croatian brother and sister, along the Maltese waterfront. Afterwards we went wandering. And ended up in the seventh circle of hell. A place called Paceville. Continue reading Gozo – and beyond!

Fava beans and chianti: ‘The Silence of the Lambs’


Yesterday evening I fell down a YouTube rabbit hole and ended up watching the horror film ‘The Silence of the Lambs’ from 1991. The film was directed by Jonathan Demme and was based on the book of the same name by Thomas Harris. Had I been actively seeking the film then I would never have found it. Being a classic, the copyright holders are quite stringent in who can access the work – people who pay for the privilege essentially – and constantly remove clips that breach their copyright. Continue reading Fava beans and chianti: ‘The Silence of the Lambs’